


Times Like These

by rillalicious



Category: Numb3rs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-16
Updated: 2011-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rillalicious/pseuds/rillalicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nikki and Colby are winding down after tying up the case, and things start to shift between them on the cab ride back to Nikki's place. Takes place immediately after "Devil Girl" (6.13).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Times Like These

It's late by the time she walks into the bar, but David's still waiting for her. He's nursing a drink, and completely sober, even though they've been here for a couple of hours now. Obviously the designated driver.

"Where's your better half?" she says, and asks the bartender for vodka with a twist.

"He's been gone a while," says David, and he looks over his shoulder toward the bathrooms.

She should have expected that she'd be the third wheel in their little bromance again tonight. The bartender sets out her drink, and they chat about the case a little bit, but David's still watching the back every few seconds. She wonders if either one of them knows the meaning of the word co-dependence.

Nikki pats his shoulder and slides off her seat. "I need to freshen up anyway. I'll go see what's taking your boyfriend so long."

When she gets to the back, she finds Colby hunched over in the hallway, hands on his knees, wincing. Apparently there was a reason David's spidey sense was tingling.

"Hey," she says, nudging him with her hip. "You all right?"

Colby raises his eyes, grins. "You made it."

She shrugs with the shoulder that's not sore. "I figured if you were gonna text me every fifteen minutes until I gave in, I might as well get it over with."

"That's team spirit for you." He straightens up, makes a sound like an old man; she thinks that between the two of them, they've seen a week's worth of action in the past twenty-four hours. The night off is welcome.

Nikki snorts. "So seriously, you okay? I saw David at the bar and he said he hasn't seen you in ten minutes."

"Yeah," he says, but when he rolls his shoulders back, he freezes mid-motion, and he crinkles his nose for a second before following through. "Think I just screwed up my back when I had to take that guy down earlier. Doesn't help that I rolled the car yesterday."

"Told you you should've let me drive."

"Hey, I wanted to catch the guy, not watch him speed away into next week."

She rolls her eyes. "Come on, tough guy. I'll buy you guys a round." She plans to spend the evening drinking away the image of a dead girl, bled out and all alone, only memorialized through her sister's vengeance.

***

David gets called away an hour, or maybe two, after Nikki shows up at the bar; Colby's sense of time is a little fuzzy by now.

"You can take my car, man," Colby says. "We'll just get a cab. Neither one of us is driving like this."

"Amen," says Nikki, and she raises her glass of vodka.

"Take it easy, you two," David says, and once Colby has fumbled the keys from his pocket and handed them off, he's gone.

Nikki sets down her drink. "How's the back?"

"Little looser," he says, and he finishes his beer. "How you feelin'?"

Nikki shrugs, looks away, and he's got a feeling her reaction has nothing to do with the pain.

"Hey," he says, leaning over the bar, a little clumsily, to catch her eyes. "Nikki. What's going on?"

She licks her lips and shakes her head, and Colby watches her tongue dart out, wonders for a moment if she tastes like vodka, finds himself a little too buzzed to care how inappropriate the thought is.

"Just trying to shake off the case," she says.

"Yeah," he says, and for some unquantifiable amount of time, they both stare off in opposite directions. It's always like this in those hours after something particularly disturbing goes down, like waking up from a bad dream, and only the passage of time is able to pad out the memories enough to make them tolerable. It's a little like coming back from Afghanistan, he thinks, only the scale is a hell of a lot shorter.

Finally, he shoots her a slow grin. "I should call for that cab before one of us ends up passed out here."

"One of us?" Nikki arches an eyebrow, and he can feel her looking him up and down, getting a read on him. "I don't know who you think you're fooling, Granger. I could drink you under the table any day."

"You think so?" he says. "I'll take you up on that. My place or yours? I'd hate to embarrass you out in public like this."

"My place," she says. "David's told me what your place looks like."

"Hey, I'll have you know my mom taught me to keep a very tidy house."

"I'm sure she did. Whether or not you're keeping it that way here in L.A. is something I don't want to discover for myself."

Colby snorts, shakes his head.

Nikki smiles. "You callin' that cab, or what?"

~~~

The cab driver takes every corner a little faster than the last, and after the third time Colby exaggerates the motion, shoving into her shoulder on purpose, Nikki pushes back.

"Personal space, Idaho," she says.

Colby just looks at her and grins, and she presses closer to the window. She knew this was a bad idea from the start, but now it's starting to feel a little dangerous too. Maybe she's had more to drink than she thought, because she's suddenly finding it hard to fully breathe around _Colby_ , and that just can't be right.

"Come on, now," she says, and she pushes him again, and he moves away.

"Sorry," he says.

Nikki moistens her lips, looks out the window. "Not a problem."

She spends the next few minutes raking through every dizzy, non-linear thought she can, trying to find a way to recover their usual snippy banter. It feels like a thousand streetlights pass before they reach her apartment. They split the fare, and Colby holds the car door open-- _Of course_ , she thinks--and then, as they're walking up the stairs, she catches her foot on a step, _not_ because she's drunk, mind, and he steadies her by the elbow.

"It's almost not fair at this point," he says. "I give it two shots and you'll be face down on the kitchen floor."

"Dream on, farm boy," she says. "I tripped."

"Uh huh."

And there it is again, the easy exchange of amicable insults, and she feels like she can breathe now. The small part of her sinking in disappointment? That part is pointedly ignored.

Inside, Colby drops down on the couch, and as soon as Nikki opens the fridge, her stomach falls.

"I don't believe this."

It's only at Colby's laugh that she realizes she said it loud enough for him to hear.

"Maybe I should've asked if you actually had any alcohol in the house before agreeing to come over here."

"Yeah, yeah. It's not like I sit around here drinking alone. I don't keep an inventory. It still beats getting drunk on top of a pile of dirty laundry at your place." She pours two glasses of iced tea.

"I dunno what David's been telling you, but I'll have you know there is _no_ dirty laundry at my place."

 _"Oh yeah?" She reaches the couch and hands him a glass. "Where is it, then?"_

 _"In the back of my car. The laundry room in my building's under construction and I keep meaning to get to the laundromat."_

 _"You mean in the back of the car you just handed off to David? Where was he going, anyway?"_

 _"Kid in crisis at the community center. They rotate going on call for emergencies."_

 _"Good guy."_

 _"Yeah," says Colby. "David's great."_

 _"Uh huh. Well, he sure was adamant that you didn't talk to those working girls alone on this case. What was that all about?"_

 _He shakes his head and looks away, the flush spreading across his cheeks in time with his grin. Then he sips his iced tea._

 _"Long story."_

 _"I'm not goin' anywhere." The look on his face tells her she's going to enjoy this, and she stretches out on the couch, crossing her ankles on his lap._

 _Colby sighs and glances up at her. "You remember that case with the LAPD last year?" he says. "The coffee shop murders?"_

 _Her smile fades. "Yeah. I remember." _Every vivid detail,_ she thinks. _

"You remember Monica Potter? The woman who was holding the file?" His gaze is darting around the room nervously now.

"You didn't."

"Bad judgment call."

"I'll say. So now David doesn't trust you around hookers?"

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Of course it is. Was that the only time?"

He makes eye contact again, and she can feel the defensiveness rolling off him in waves.

"Yes, Nikki. That was the only time. Jesus."

"Hey, I was just asking. You're the one who slept with a witness." She pulls her feet away, tucking her knees up against her chest.

"Yeah, well, everybody makes mistakes."

"That's a little more than a mistake," she says, and she sips her own drink.

A muscle in the back of his jaw tics and he sits up on the edge of the couch, like he's about to leave.

"Hang on, Colby. I'm sorry," she says, because she _is_. She reaches with one hand to stop him, her fingers curling tightly on his bicep as the pain shoots through her shoulder. "Shit."

"You all right?"

"Yeah." She grits her teeth for a second, until the burning sensation passes. "Fine."

He cradles her elbow in his palm and pries her hand from his arm, lowering it carefully to her side.

"Just so you know, I wasn't gonna let you get smashed tonight, anyway," he says. "I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure it's not the first thing you're supposed to do after a head injury."

"Neither is work, but that didn't stop either one of us, did it?"

He's still holding her arm in both his hands.

"I wasn't admitted to the hospital," Colby says.

"I was cleared to go back to the FBI."

"Yeah, only because you scared the doctor shitless."

"My natural charm has to be good for something," she says.

"Is that what you're calling it these days?"

She smiles, finding it so easy to fall into this pattern that she hardly notices his thumb running gently up and down the back of her elbow. She's pretty sure he hasn't noticed it at all.

"Sorry, Granger. Some people've got it, and some... Well, some have to get their dates off the witness list."

"Oh, ouch. I share my dirty little secret and this is what I get in return?"

"I'm betting you've got bigger secrets than that. You pulled off being a triple agent for two years. I think this whole small-town-soldier-joins-the-FBI thing is just an act."

"How'd you guess? I'm really a super hero straight out of one of David's comic books. Special Agent Granger is my mild-mannered alter ego."

"Now that's hot," she says, and his fingers still on her arm, their warmth leaving an indelible mark there.

"Oh yeah?"

"I guess it depends on what kind of super hero. The underwear over tights kind of super hero?"

"Hell, no. Are you kidding me?"

"Lemme guess. Your costume would involve cowboy boots and a ten gallon hat."

"Eh, now you're gettin' closer."

She looks him over and presses her lips together for a moment. "Not a bad mental image."

"You think?" Colby runs his tongue over his upper lip, his palm sliding up her upper arm now. Nikki swallows, shifting herself a little closer to him on the couch.

"Yeah," she says, her voice raspy. She clears her throat. "How much have you had to drink tonight, exactly?"

"Enough," he says, and now his hand is on her shoulder and he's pushing her hair back, his fingertips skating over her throat. "Enough to turn off the part of my brain that thinks this is a bad idea."

"This is a _very_ bad idea," Nikki says, and she slides one leg down to the floor so she can move closer still.

"Fuck, Nikki," he breathes, and the sound of it winds down her spine. God, his voice is _beautiful_.

"Colby?"

"Yeah?"

"Just shut up and kiss me already, all right?"

He smiles lopsidedly and leans forward. "Yeah."

~~~

She tastes better than vodka, he thinks after the first second. And then, she tastes better than _everything_ , after a few seconds more. Her good arm is wrapped around him now, fingers twining in his hair and pulling him in hard. He grabs her hip, drags her up onto his lap and falls back against the couch.

They both wince at the same time, and he laughs against her lips.

"Are you too banged up to do this?" he asks.

She wriggles on his lap, straddling him more efficiently, and instinct drives his hips up to grind against her.

"What do you think?" she says.

"I'm thinking I hope you have some Advil for the morning, because we're both gonna be feeling this."

With one hand, she starts to unbutton her shirt, and he's captivated.

"Let's worry about that in the morning," she says.

"Uh huh."

He traces the path of bare skin she reveals with his fingertip, satisfied with himself when she shivers in response. He pushes her bra up and out of the way, rubbing one nipple with the pad of his thumb, and then the other. Her thighs go tense around his hips and then she has a hand on his belt buckle and she's pushing it inside, between his boxers and his skin, and Colby groans from low in his throat as he bucks up into her touch.

She kisses him again, hard and long, and her fingers close around his cock. He can hardly remember to breathe and kiss back at the same time, nevermind figuring out which article of clothing he can pull off her next.

"Shit," she whispers against his lips, suddenly. "Condoms are in the bedroom."

He sucks her lower lip into his mouth, worrying it gently with his teeth, and wraps his arms around her. As he stands, the groan that's wrenched from his throat is involuntary, and he's going to fucking _feel_ this in the morning, but he can't bring himself to care.

There's only one bedroom in the apartment (thank God, because he finds it fast), and he turns around at the bed, dropping down on his back so he doesn't have to stop touching her all over. He runs his hands through her hair, and down her back, and over her ass, squeezing and pulling her against him. She stretches out her arm for the bedside table, and he takes the cue, reaching out himself and fumbling through the drawer until he finds the little package.

She shimmies out of her jeans, revealing red lacy panties beneath, and fuck, he thinks, was she planning on getting laid tonight because it's _hot_ and he can't tear his eyes away. Nikki snatches the package out of his hands and opens it, takes her time working it down his cock, and once it's on, she crawls back onto the bed and yanks his jeans down the rest of the way, violently.

"Jesus," he says, his breathless laugh low and hoarse as he reaches for her. "Nikki, please."

"Don't rush it," she says, and she starts opening his shirt, her fingers maddeningly slow as they flick open each button.

" _Nikki_."

"Do you want me to make you beg, Granger?"

Colby's breath hitches as her hands flatten over his chest, mapping him. "Yeah."

She freezes, but for only a second. Then she shrugs off her shirt, flings the bra across the room, and crawls up to straddle his chest.

"If you think you're sore now, you can't even imagine how you're going to feel when I'm done with you," she says.

And he's watching her face as she moves, the long line of her neck as her head falls back, and then she's sliding down on him and he's-- _fuck_ \--digging his fingers into her hips to pull her down.

"Oh, _God_ ," he murmurs, shuddering when he realizes she has no intention of taking this fast and hard. Because right now, that's all he can think about. "This is just cruel."

Nikki slides over him slowly and Jesus, the way she's moving her hips, he's never felt anything like her.

"Oh, you just wait," she says, and true to her word, she drives him near out of his mind. It goes on forever, and he's dizzy now, but it has nothing to do with the alcohol he's consumed and everything to do with the perfect slide of Nikki's body against his, and the sounds that she's making with every sway of her hips.

He doesn't realize he's begging until he's doing it, arms thrown up over his head, eyes squeezed shut.

"Fuck, Nikki. Please, _please_."

Her voice is low, breath coming in quick gasps as her nails dig sharp crescents into his chest. "Oh, hell yes." And then she's fucking him _hard_.

When Colby comes, it's with a surge of adrenaline, and he flips her over, pressing her into the mattress, holding her still beneath him as he rides it out. She moans softly beneath him and he kisses her jaw, her throat, her collarbone, unable to get enough of her.

"You all right?" he murmurs, his lips trailing down her breasts.

She makes a sound that is maybe supposed to be a word, and her head lolls to the side, and he laughs as he moves down her body.

He's gentle when he pushes her legs up, careful not to make her injuries worse, though it's sheer agony to take it slow when he's so lost in her now. The faint taste of latex doesn't even register because the taste of _Nikki_ is so fucking perfect that it overwhelms the rest of his senses. Before long she's shuddering, bucking up on the bed and wrapping her legs around his head and he growls against her as she comes, her string of profanity trailing off to an incoherent moan.

"Jesus," he breathes, and he kisses his way up her stomach, her legs dropping limply to either side of him.

"You're telling me," she says, reaching out to touch his face as he drops down beside her.

"We're totally going to regret this tomorrow, aren't we?" she says, but she's smiling even as she can't seem to tilt her head up to face him.

"Probably," says Colby. "At least the part where I can't get out of your bed in the morning."

She brushes her thumb across the marks she left on his chest. "I dunno," she says. "I can think of worse things."

Colby grins and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah," he says. "Me too."

 

[END]


End file.
